


i'm all but washed (in the tide of his breathing)

by Petr1chor



Series: take me to the barricade [2]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Exhaustion, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, Overworking, Slow Burn, this is just pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:34:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27978951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Petr1chor/pseuds/Petr1chor
Summary: Enjoras has a Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Week and Grantaire finds him and gets him to go to sleep.xxxxThis is just a fluffy prompt fill I did on tumblr where Enj exhausts himself and R helps out a little
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: take me to the barricade [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2049165
Comments: 7
Kudos: 80





	i'm all but washed (in the tide of his breathing)

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr prompt fill  
> Hope you enjoy!!

Enjolras fought to keep his eyes peeled and stared at the blinking cursor. He did not remember what he had planned to write.

He had had a difficult day. A difficult week. Difficult was a gentle word for it. They had spent the past few days planning a sit in to demand gender neutral bathrooms. They had all the plans ready, lawyers contacted, and then someone had ratted them out to the Dean.

Enjolras liked the Dean. Dean Lamarque was usually willing to hear him out before making any decisions. But when he was called, he was called not to the Dean’s office, but the Assistant Dean’s and Javert _hated_ him. The meeting had drained him of all energy before his classes for the day had even begun.

After his third lecture of the day, he headed to the law firm he was interning at. His supervisor at his internship, Valjean, was a firm but kind man. When he had seen Enjolras in such a state, he had asked him to leave. Enjolras spent longer than he usually would have considering it. The sit in had been put together rather quickly and it had been ages since he slept through the night. He ached all over.

Finally, his urge for perfectionism had won out and he stayed until his usual hours were up. His head was throbbing by the time he reached his apartment.

When his phone pinged with a calendar notification reminding him of the Constitutional Law essay he had due tomorrow, he fought the urge to fling it at the outrageously ugly orange pot Courfeyrac had made in his week-long pottery class.

He ended up the Musain at about midnight, when the quiet of the apartment kept lulling him to sleep and he could no longer work there.

Enjolras reached for his mug and let out a long, frustrated whine when he found it empty. The cursor kept blinking mockingly at him. He had the strongest urge to stick his tongue out at it.

He felt the warmth of a mug being pushed into his hand and he made a happy noise as he took a sip. It was smooth and sweet and definitely not coffee. Enjolras huffed.

“Enjolras?”

Right, the mug had to come from somewhere. Enjolras squinted up at whoever had brought him the mug.

“Enjolras?”

He knew that voice. And that scruff.

“’Taire?”

Grantaire had sat down next to him.

“Have you been drinking?” his voice was oddly soft.

“Just coffee,” Enjolras said as Grantaire sniffed the mug that sat empty on the table.

“What are you doing here so late?”

“What are _you_ doing here so late?” Enjolras was well aware of how petulant he sounded, but he cared too little to stop it.

“Eponine called me. She works the nights on Thursdays, remember? Are you going to tell me why you’re staring at an empty page on your screen?”

“The apartment is too quiet. Can’t stay up there. Keep falling asleep.”

“Enj, it’s 3am. You should be falling asleep.”

Enjolras put the mug down and pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. “Can’t. Essay due tomorrow.”

Suddenly there was a warm hand on his shoulder and he shuddered violently. Had he been cold all this time?

“Look, you’re gonna sit there and drink your tea. I’ll grab your stuff. The essay can wait, let’s get you to bed okay?”

“But-“

“Nope,” Grantaire said, merrily, “No arguments. Drink your tea, Apollo.”

Enjolras slumped in seat and took a gulp. Grantaire gently shut his lapton and stuck it in his backpack before starting to gather all the notes Enjolras had scattered on the table.

“Where are Ferre and Courf anyway?”

“Ferre has a shift. Courf is doing a horror movie marathon at Jehan’s.”

“Alright, let me just get all your stuff then we can leave, okay?”

Enjolras hummed in agreement.

xxx

The walk back to his apartment had woken him up a bit, and by the time he was jiggling his key into the lock, Enjolras felt his cheeks warm at the thought that Grantaire had to be called to pick him up like some kind of child. Grantaire, to his credit, was just standing behind him with his backpack slung on one shoulder.

Grantaire did not say a word, simply placing the backpack by the door and allowing him to go wash up for bed. Enjolras stepped close to squeeze his arm goodbye because he couldn’t muster the energy for much more.

He trudged to the bathroom, mechanically stripping out of his clothes to take a lightning fast shower and brushing his teeth.

It wasn’t long before he was in bed, staring at the ceiling with bitter animosity as sleep evaded him. He turned to his side, lightly punched his pillow and stood up. Maybe some water would help.

His head felt heavy on his shoulders.

The kitchen lights were on. He could feel the deep furrow between his brows.

Did his house get broken into? God, Ferre was going to kill him. He was always going on and on about locking the door at night.

“Grantaire? What are you doing here?” Enjolras winced at how harsh that came out.

“Oh hey, you’re here,” he was stirring something on the stove, “I figured you wouldn’t be able to sleep because of how keyed up you get. I thought you might need to wind down.”

Enjolras gaped at him in the terrible light of the kitchen. The button-down he had thrown on the worn grey tshirt had its sleeves rolled to the crook of his elbow, where he could see the very beginnings of a tattoo.

“ _I_ didn’t know I wouldn’t be able to sleep,” he said, hoping it conveyed the confusion he felt.

Grantaire gave a short, playful laugh, taking the pot off the stove and pouring its contents into two pots. “Well, self-awareness is hardly your forte, Apollo,” he said.

Enjolras gave an indignant huff even though he could feel himself helplessly smiling at the glint in Grantaire’s brown eyes.

“Come,” Grantaire said, “Drink some hot cocoa, let’s watch something to help you wind down, okay?”

“’Kay.”

Enjolras sprawled on couch, wrapping the tricolor throw that Cosette had crocheted for him and sipped at his hot chocolate. It was warm, not hot, and slid down his throat with ease. Grantaire was sitting on the far end of the couch, sorting through Comeferre’s moth documentaries to play one. His hair looked terribly soft.

He drank his hot chocolate in slow gulps, hearing the lady talk about Hesperia Busiris in a gentle lilting monotone. The lights were growing fuzzy.

“R?”

Grantaire hummed, turning to look at him with gaze that was far too soft.

“I’m so tired,” Enjolras whispered.

Grantaire smiled tenderly, wrapping an arm around him till his head was comfortably settled on his chest.

“Then rest, love.”

Enjolras closed his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it?
> 
> Kudos, comments and shares are appreciated :)


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